“I s’pose, because I be down on me luck, she thinks I ain’t worth a penny,” she cried, and went in and banged the door.

“There’s temper for you!” the other woman exclaimed to the world at large and went about her own business. But Laura was distressed. She had seen Mrs. Parker’s expression and could imagine how her pride was hurt. She, herself, hated to be pitied. But what could she do about it?

She went to the gate. Miss Ellison had finished collecting and was crossing the allotments on her way home. Laura would just have time to run the other way round and meet her at the stile. After a struggle with her own inward shrinking which lasted about two minutes, but was ridiculously intense, she ran off on her long, thin legs, and popped up, like a little jack-in-the-box, on the other side of the stile which the lady was gathering up her long frilly skirts to mount.

“Oh, please, Miss Ellison, you haven’t been to Mrs. Parker’s, and she’s got her penny all ready and she wants the Queen to have it so much.”

“But, Laura,” said the lady loftily, surprised at such interference, “I did not intend to call upon Mrs. Parker today. With her husband in hospital, I know she has no penny to spare, poor soul.”

But, although somewhat quelled, Laura persisted: “But she’s got it all polished up and wrapped in tissue paper, Miss Ellison, and ‘twill hurt her feelings most awful if you don’t go for it, Miss Ellison.”

At that, Miss Ellison grasped the situation and retraced her steps, keeping Laura by her side and talking to her as to another grown-up person.